


Ad astra

by Kharon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Genderbending, Male Bellatrix, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 03:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21229373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kharon/pseuds/Kharon
Summary: Becrux Pollux Black is born on the 22nd of December 1951 as the first child of Cygnus and Druella Black. Things change.





	Ad astra

**Author's Note:**

> This story is originally from 2017, but I never got around to posting it for some reason. There's so many genderbend stories out there, so many what ifs, but they are all about the same people, all about fixing the "big" problems by making "big" changes, when in reality it's only one thing, one thought, one action, that can change an entire story. This is the one were Bellatrix was a boy, because goddamn the Black family had as much potential for greatness as they had for madness.
> 
> **Becrux.**  
_Mimosa. Latinised Beta Crucis. The second-brightest object in the constellation of Crux._

Becrux Pollux Black is born on the 22nd of December 1951 as the first child of Cygnus and Druella Black.

He is the firstborn of the new generation of the Black family, a scion of old blood expected to rise high and shine bright like the stars from which his family derives their names.

_Wild_ his mother calls him disapprovingly, too wild for the potential heir of the ancient and noble House of Black in any case. His hair is as dark as his eyes, and he becomes a blurred black shadow when he dashes through the Whitchurch townhouse, his grandfather's Great Dane close on his heels.

Becrux is defiant and loud - yet more things his mother disapproves of - but he is a boy, young and bright with the promise of a grand future to come. Neither his father nor his grandfather forbid him what they think will turn to greatness one day, and so this is who he is and who he continues to be.

It is his words that they trouble over, or better the lack thereof. Becrux has never learnt how to be a silent child, proper and well-behaved, but even at three and a half he is not articulate. The words won't form in his mouth as he wants them to be in his head, and his family notice. They watch it every day as Andromeda - his baby sister, the other half that completes him, the little girl whose looks match his so well they could as well have been twins - gets better at forming words and then sentences, succeeding effortlessly at what he was been failing at for years.

He never comes to know who told his great uncle, but one day Arcturus Black arrives at the townhouse, gleaming dark eyes examining Becrux closely before he orders his parents to take him to see a healer.

There is no disagreeing with the head of the family, not in the Black house, and so his father makes an appointment at St. Mungos. Healer Whittaker has grey hair and a warm smile Becrux doesn't know how to react to. Grown-ups don't smile, least of all men, not where he comes from and never in the way the healer does.

He is prodded and tested, there are spells spoken over his head that require intricate wand movement and mumbled incantations. The healer even makes him open his mouth to inspect, wants him to draw on a sheet of paper - for which he doesn't have the patience so he just tears the paper apart - and let's him walk with his eyes closed.

The procedure feels endless to Becrux, until finally he is allowed to take his leave so the adults can converse on their own.

Afterwards he has to take potions, one every morning. It is a sickness he had caught, he overhears his father telling his grandmother, but the matter is taken care of and his speech should adjust soon. It does at some point around the time Narcissa is born, a second sister he didn't want and doesn't overly care for. She is as blond as their mother and nothing like him and Andromeda.

Andromeda is demure where he is defiant, polite where he is rude, gentle where he is brash. His sister is everything a lady his supposed to be he understands, everything he should have been as well had he not been the oldest and so far only male to be born into the newest generation of Blacks. He is _the heir_ and that grants him privilege ... until the day Sirius Orion Black is born.

Becrux is not yet eight when his cousin sees the light of day, and even though his family calls it a day of great jubilation his parents are obviously displeased when they raise their glasses to young Sirius. He is too young to understand the power he loses that day, but also too young to hold a grudge against Sirius for it.

Sirius is... he has the same eyes and hair as Becrux, as all of them - save for Narcissa that is, and his grandfather mumbled once, believing him to be out of earshot, that Cissa may always be more Rosier than Black - he has the same face and the same skin, but Sirius _laughs_. It's not Becrux' wild cackle or Andromeda's slight curl of her lips, it's laughter, free and happy like no Black should have the right to have.

Gripping his finger tightly in his small fist and laughing happily Sirius manages to make the faint wrinkles of a smile appear around Great Uncle Arcturus' serious eyes. He has never seen him happy before, Becrux realizes.

Time goes by and he doesn't see much of Sirius afterwards, because what is a young boy supposed to do with a toddler? He likes the babe well enough, but Sirius is too young and fragile to play with, at least according to his mother. Becrux picked him up and carried him around once, and his aunt threw at fit when she saw, but Sirius seemed content enough, watching his every move with wide grey eyes, squeaking joyfully when he swirled him through the air.

Instead of spending time with his cousin, he and Andy are expected to start studying now. Apparently eight and something years is old enough for him to be introduced to letters and lessons, to occupy his mind with history, alchemy and the complex hierarchy that is pureblood society.

At one and a half years his younger, his sister shouldn't have to share his classes and Becrux tells his father as much, angry and fierce in his rage. He loves her, her soft eyes and gentle touch, the way she smiles when he brings her flowers from the meadows, the patience she has for his mood swings and how she pets his hair when he had a bad dream - Becrux loves Andromeda more than anyone else in the world, and he will do whatever it takes to protect her.

His father relents ultimately. Not because he cares overly much for Andromeda, but because Becrux will make good on his threat to not invest himself into any of his lessons otherwise. Cygnus Black wants his son educated at all costs. Sirius is only a baby after all.

He doesn't mind alchemy and astronomy overly much, history is boring to him, he doesn't care for etiquette or proper behavior… but it's the letters that trouble him. It's five years ago all over again, where he can't place anything right, _knows_ the words, but cannot make any sense of them on paper. Reading is bad and writing is worse. Becrux tries, stares at the pages of a book for hours, and then erupts in violent rage when he repeats the same mistakes all over again.

They take him to Healer Whittaker again, this time without Arcturus having to put his foot down.

It's tests again, and he feels out of his element trying to read words he recognizes but not, repeating the same things all over again, writing his name numerous times on empty sheets of paper for no good reason. His father breaks first, snarling at the healer to stop this nonsense and find a way to fix his son.

The old healer wants him to come back for _therapy_. Becrux almost laughs when he watches his mother's face turn blotchy red and his father fight to keep his composure. _Of course_ Becrux will not come regularly to St. Mungos for treatment they assert, because what would other people think? The oldest Black child, sick? No, they cannot have this.

A tutor he needs then, at least, to have a chance of getting the same understanding of written language other children his age have, Healer Whittaker tells them in no uncertain terms. His parents find the mere thought to be abhorrent, but Becrux isn't sure how he feels about it all. He doesn't want help, despises his own weakness, while at the same time a part of him fears that he will never overcome this particular hurdle, won't ever get _fixed_ as his father so bluntly put it. There is no place for the crippled in the Black family.

When they finally leave the hospital, Cygnus makes it clear to the healer that if he ever hears word about Becrux being less than _in perfect health_ he will not have a job any longer. His son doesn't know whether it is an empty threat or not, but the old man most likely won't know either - no one messes with the House of Black and gets away with it, that much everyone is aware of.

His fight with his father was for naught it turns out, because when the tutor arrives he is hired to help Andromeda and not Becrux. This is the official story, and so from then on he and his sister attend the lessons together.

It is more fun to share his classes with Andy. Unlike Becrux, his sister enjoys studying, _reading_ and her presence in the room is often the only thing stopping him from losing his temper with their teacher - a young man, former Ravenclaw, half-blooded, who is poor enough to need the money, clever enough to not gossip, and unimportant enough to not gather unnecessary attention.

He gets a second Black cousin not two years after the first. Regulus is a quiet baby, much like Andromeda was, though even at a few months old he is more mellow than Andy ever was. Becrux' sister is gentle and caring, but her will is as much steel as his. She is a Black, properly bred, unlike Regulus, who he dismisses with one glance. His parents are both from their line, but what is in them and in Sirius is not in Regulus, and one day it may cost him dear.

Sirius loves the tiny boy however, in the same fierce way Becrux loves Andy. It isn't proper, not in families like theirs, but he can't begrudge him for it any less than he can turn his back on Andromeda and treat her in the same cautiously detached way he treats Narcissa.

Their lessons progress steadily, though slowly in the case of his reading. It remains a struggle for Becrux for months, only his sister's soothing presence making the ordeal bearable for him. He _must_ learn however, for he is a Black, and no Black can remain lacking in a matter as trivial as that of the written word.

The other subjects however come easy to him now, almost as easy as they come to Andy. She is clever, more so than him even, and by now their family has taken notice. Her father watches his sisters recall poetry proudly these days, making sure to stress how it befits a woman of her stature to be well-educated. Finding a husband for Andromeda will not be a problem, Cygnus assures Becrux with a pleased smile, not bothered in the least when his son doesn't return it.

Becrux tries to ignore the way his father and grandfather - his mother even if he is honest - treat his sisters as bargaining chips in the struggle for power between the pureblood families. They are Blacks, of the same pure blood as him, and still he hears Cygnus and Pollux talking about marrying Andromeda of to a _Pucey_. For the sake of the family they say, but Becrux can't see how flogging his sisters off is for the family. It's for _money_, and he hates them more and more for every time someone looks at Andy with gleaming eyes that calculate her market value.

Andromeda is too gentle to ever fight back, not against her own blood, and Narcissa still blissfully ignorant to how their world works. Becrux is the eldest, their brother. They are his responsibility and he will not see them sold off to a minor house, no matter how many galleons they offer. Even Narcissa, though he thinks her a brat, deserves a husband of her standing. Anything less would be an insult to their name regardless of what his father says.

All this Becrux thinks while watching his family. Sirius is better off in his mind, he only has a brother… and he is _the heir_ of course. Great Uncle Arcturus loves him. There is nothing that can ever take his cousin's birthright from him and in a way Becrux is glad for it. He doesn't have to worry over Sirius or Regulus like he does about his sisters, no matter how many times aunt Walburga rants about how much of a rascal the boy is.

When he turns eleven a barn owl bears him a letter stamped with the seal of Hogwarts. His grandparents nod, pleased, and his father takes him to London to buy a wand: English Walnut, dragon heartstring, 12 3/4 inches. _Unyielding_, Mr. Ollivander calls it, and Becrux knows that it fits him perfectly.

Presents from all of his family arrive over the following days, aunts and uncles from both the Black family and his mother's Rosier siblings gifting him expensive books, cloaks, trinkets, and of course a golden telescope, as it is proper for a scion of the Black family.

Great Uncle Arcturus sends no present.

It's his grandfather opening the door on the last day of the waning year to greet his cousin in surprise. Nobody expected the head of the family to trouble himself with visiting a child not even of his own line, nobody but Becrux who remembers keen dark eyes appraising him so many years ago. Becrux isn't the Black heir, but he could have been had Sirius not been born, having passed whatever scrutiny the Lord Black subjected him to when he was three.

The gift is hidden in a cloth of fine white linen and Becrux accepts it with both hands, carefully unwrapping the bundle that clicks softly when he moves it. Inside is a necklace forged of small links of chain that have a dull gleam in the light of the fireplace. Five small metal pendants are attached to the links on the front, each one maybe two inches long, not wider than his finger and bearing a different rune.

_Magic_ is thick in the air when Becrux reverently lifts the necklace from its resting place, his fingers tingling where he touches the metal. It is warm to the touch, warmer than it has any right to be.

He puts it around his neck carefully, hissing softly when jewelry touches the exposed skin of his collar bone. The magic crashing over him like a wave takes the breath out of Becrux’ lungs, and he needs a moment to blink away the sudden dizziness before he can turn around, ends of the necklace in both his hands and offering them to Arcturus to join together at the back of his neck.

His great uncle takes them from him immediately, merging the two links in what he guesses to be either a nonverbal spell or the magic of the necklace itself. The air feels heavy around Becrux.

Cygnus and Druella beam as they see his close interaction with the family head, but he sees the gloomy look his grandfather shots Arcturus, and the angry - or maybe sad? - face his grandmother makes. There is a conflict there, that is the only thing he understands.

Becrux knows better than to ask. Questions aren't tolerated in the Black house, not that kind. Words are better weapons than wands in his family, and he has always been bad with those. Andromeda would understand, maybe, but she is not there and he feels lost without her. She's good with the silent battles where he sometimes wants to just smash everything around him to pieces to make it stop.

Arcturus rises then, even Becrux understanding that the family head will take his leave of them now. He escorts him to the front door when the older man motions for his cousin and family to remain seated.

"Do the Black name proud boy," he tells Becrux after he has put on his cloak.

Not the family, because Arcturus Black hates his family for whatever reason. Sirius is the only one he holds dear and he understands, just a little. His cousin is different from the rest of them, _brighter_.

"Yes, sire," Becrux answers without thinking and then falters.

It's a lie. They are of one family, but he isn't of Arcturus' line and doesn't have any right to claim- a hand comes down on top of his head, ruffling through his hair that has grown too long and unruly for a proper young man.

He lifts his head to look up at his great uncle. Dark eyes regard him closely, the man's thin lips curling upwards into the ghost of a smirk. Then Arcturus pats his head once and leaves, his black silhouette merging with the dark of the night.

Pollux Black avoids his grandson from that day onwards. Becrux has no real explanation, just the vague feeling in his gut that somehow he became a _traitor_ to his own part of the Black line. From all the relatives Arcturus always cared for their branch the least, but somehow he has captured his eye, if only a little, and his grandfather despises him for that. Instead of being disappointed however the knowledge raises his ire, and so Becrux ignores his father's father right back.

Andy notices of course, especially since attention has shifted to her and Narcissa now. He is still his father's only son, but his mother and grandmother have always fussed about the girls and with Pollux looking to his sisters, there is now only one pair of eyes on him for three on them.

Becrux doesn't bemoan the change. He is more free to do as he pleases because of it. Sometimes he even manages to sneak into the garden with his wand in his pocket, daring to practice a couple of the few spells he knows.

It is Narcissa that becomes the family's darling, young and sweet and innocent of the things that make Becrux and Pollux at odds. She is pretty he admits readily enough, and trained well to do as told and not disagree with the adults. At times she reminds him of a doll: beautiful but empty inside, a plaything.

In this he is unjust to their sister, Andromeda reminds him curtly when he mentions it to her, and the anger in her dark brown eyes makes him apologize immediately. For her he tries to see the person that his younger sister is, listens when she talks about her new stuffed toy, smiles when she brings him flowers in spring and even reads her a bedtime story once - Narcissa doesn't laugh or get impatient when he pauses at some words, and for that alone he likes her a little better after.

Time flies by in this last year he spends at home.

They visit the townhouse in London trice with their parents, and whatever quarrel is between Pollux and Arcturus, Orion and Cygnus don't share it. Narcissa dotes on baby Regulus, and Sirius follows Andy and Becrux wherever they go, his bubbly energy infecting the both of them until they lie on the carpet in the library howling with laughter none of them remember the reason for.

When he thinks back on his childhood years later this is what Becrux likes to remember: the happiness, for then all of them were still innocent enough to find it, even in dark halls of 12 Grimmauld Place.

His sisters are allowed to accompany them to Diagonal Alley when his parents take him shopping for his school supplies. Even his grandmother Irma joins them, though Pollux remains elusive, preferring to stay back at the townhouse alone. It doesn't matter to Becrux, who is more at ease when his grandfather is not in attendance.

Narcissa is delighted with the displays of various shops, chatting animatedly with their mother and grandmother, and even begging for a kitten when they stop at the Magical Menagerie to take a look at potential familiars for Becrux. Andy's eyes light up when she looks at the small kittens as well, and Becrux wonders what it is that makes his sisters so taken with the cats - he'd daresay that his mother would have bought the pitch-black one with the fluffy tail if it wasn't for Phobos.

Pollux' old Great Dane chasing the kitten through the house would have been a sight indeed, but not one fitting for the House of Black.

Personally he has no fondness to any of the animals on display. Toads, rats and the like simply won't do for a scion of the Black family, he has no interest in cats, and owls, albeit practical, are too docile animals for him to take any liking to them.

He finally makes a find in a small, crammed shop in Knockturn Alley. It's an Eleonora's falcon with a dark coat and sharp, black eyes. Eleven months old, finest breed and sensitive to magic, the shop owner promises, knowing better than to sell subpar ware to Becrux' father. He names him _Deimos_ and leaves with the bird perched on his shoulder, watching their surroundings with keen eyes.

His new familiar manages to distract Becrux from the fact that he will soon leave his home most of the time, smothering the repulsion he feels at having to leave Andy behind. It's still hard, though.

Andromeda has been with him for as long as he can remember. They shared everything, from their secrets to their toys to their teacher. Without her… alone at night Becrux can admit to himself that he feels something like _dread_ at the prospect of leaving his sister. He knows no world without Andy and while he doesn't fear Hogwarts, he fears losing control without her by his side, giving in to the rage simmering inside him, breaking his word to Arcturus. The necklace burns against his skin.

She knows him well, his clever little sister, the twin he never had. While Narcissa stays home with their grandparents on the 1st of September Andromeda tells their parents that she wishes to see him off, her words polite and propper, her tone like burnished steel.

Cygnus is smitten with her and Druella sees the chance to show off her _perfect_ daughter on Platform 9 3/4. Becrux however is grateful no matter his parents motives. It's only a few hours, but he would trade all the gold in his possession - which is a considerable sum despite his age - for her to come to Hogwarts with him. As it is he doesn't have much to look forward to.

They arrive fashionably late for a pureblood family, which is still an hour before the first mudbloods will stumble onto the platform, his father tells him. Becrux doesn't care for them any more than he cares for the members of the other families that come up one after another to pay their respects to them. There will only two more _true_ purebloods in his year and he hasn't spotted either of them yet.

Becrux stays by Andromeda's side instead of mingling, reminding everyone around them by their proximity and identical looks alone that she is a Black too, worth more than all of them combined. Even as children their beauty and pose makes them stand out, marks them for who they are for everyone to see.

Andy doesn't talk overly much, but holds his hand lightly and watches the people around them with attentive dark eyes. She remains aloof no matter who approaches them. Standing beside her fills Becrux with pride and a certain calmness. Nothing can agitate his sister, and he soaks up her poise and makes it his own, his rage at having to leave her behind dwindling until it is a mere shadow in the back of his mind.

Finally it is time, the first people in strange, ragged clothes joining the wizarding families on the platform and marking their cue to board the train. Becrux sneers at their gawking faces and embarrassingly obvious ignorance, sidestepping a tiny girl in a _pink_ dress when he walks up to the Hogwarts Express.

"It's time," he tells Andy unnecessarily just to have an excuse to talk to her a moment longer.

Two small, warm hands take hold of his cold ones. His sister's gaze is soft. She doesn't look at anyone else this way, not even at Narcissa. It's an expression reserved for him alone, full love and tenderness that has no place in the Black family otherwise. It's _his_, as she is, and Becrux hates it to the core of his very being that he has to leave her behind.

"I'll see you again on Christmas, Becrux. Just three and a half months."

Three and a half months. At eleven that feels like eternity to him. It is for Andromeda too, he knows that, but they have no choice in the matter and therefore will defer to what society expects of them - grudgingly and proudly however, unbending and unbroken. They are Blacks after all.

"Look out for Narcissa, will you?" he asks before he even knows what he is saying. His little sister is… _important_, at least to Andy, and so she is important to him as well in some way.

They will have each other. They will have each other and he will be at Hogwarts, hundreds of miles away from home, spending his time with people beneath him, sitting in classes he doesn't care for, learning things he knows already, wasting-

"Take care of yourself, will you?" Andy retorts, interrupting his thoughts. There is a glimpse of mischief in her gaze and Becrux almost laughs when their eyes meet. _This_ is what he will miss most, their easy comradeship.

"Always, sister," he accompanies the words with a low bow. "I'll write."

There is indignation in the way she wrinkles her forehead in response. "Of course you will."

This time Becrux _does_ smile, minuscule enough so their mother won't see from a few meters away and chide him for it in a letter tomorrow - it isn't proper for a Black to flaunt emotion after all.

One last glance shared between them, her hands gripping his tightly for a second and then letting go of him, before he strolls into the train. It's the hardest thing he has done in his eleven years, but Becrux can't mourn the loss of his sister openly and so he walks through the Hogwarts Express with his head held high and dark eyes smoldering with contempt.

His trunk and the cage holding the sleeping Deimos have already been stowed away and he is both pleased and disappointed at the same time to see that his compartment is otherwise still empty. He knows himself well enough to be aware that he is spoiling for a fight at the moment, if only to not have to think of the months of separation from Andy to come.

The compartment remains silent for all of ten minutes before the door is slid open.

Becrux lifts his eyes from his Defense against the Dark Arts textbook - which is a complete waste of his time, really - and has already opened his mouth for a sharp rebuff at whoever dares disturb him when he takes a look at the newcomer.

The boy is smaller than him, has dark brown hair and almost black eyes. They have met before, on a few pureblood parties where children were actually allowed to attend.

"Lestrange," he greets his fellow student, nodding for him to enter.

"Black," the other boy responds. "Rodolphus."

He's to the point, a trait Becrux likes a lot. Not obnoxious, well-tailored robes, prestigious family. There will be enough uneducated half-bloods and ignorant mudbloods and so he values the company of another person of good breeding in Slytherin.

"Becrux," he introduces himself and then focuses back to the bane of a book in his lap. It's as useless a piece of crap as the whole subject is, but his father impressed on him the need to veil his disgust, for Hogwarts is under the reign of Albus Dumbledore. He paid enough attention in his history classes to know what that means.

"Disgusting piece of shit, that thing." Rodolphus' voice pulls him out of his musings and he looks over to the other boy, who points at the book with a grimace on his face.

A friendship is born the moment Becrux grins and then carelessly throws the book on the seat beside him to have a chat with his new companion.

They spend their time talking, first about the atrocious textbook, then about the other subjects, what their favorites will be, which teachers will teach what, how many mudbloods there will be in the castle and who else has chances to get into Slytherin - the Bulstrode boy he has never met but knows to attend as well, the third and last pureblood in their year.

When he looks out the window during a lapse in conversation to gauge the time it's already dark outside, and only a few minutes later a Ravenclaw prefect whose name they don't bother asking for informs them that the train will arrive at Hogsmeade station in half an hour.

Departure is a mess. There is luggage and animal cages everywhere as the students from the second year upwards make their way to one end of the platform while Becrux, Rodolphus and the other first years are horded down to the docks. He knows that they will cross the lake with boats of course, but apparently the majority of his year mates is clueless to what will happen to them. He tries to ignore their vulgar exclamations of fear.

A half-giant is leading them and Rodolphus makes him a whispered wager for who the wizarding parent was: mother or father. Becrux doesn't think that any wizard in their right mind would have shagged a giantess, so he bets on the mother, and Rodolphus is a good sport and bets a galleon on the father with a shrug and a good-natured grin.

It's four people per boat, but Rodolphus is lucky enough to sport Kendrick Bulstrode and motions him to come over and join them.

Even at eleven the boy is broad and tall - though not as tall as Becrux, who is easily the tallest amongst the first years - with dark hair and eyes. The Bulstrodes were a family of dragon breeders when the profession was still common, and even over two hundred years later it shows in their build. His mother told Becrux once that though it does their men well it makes for ugly, overly bulky women, and he pities the boy's sister and cousins.

The smaller figure that followed in Kendrick's wake he would have overlooked, if Bulstrode hadn't pushed him into the boat along with them. Adair Sallow, a half-blood, but of a respectable family known throughout Europe for their sale of excellent wand wood… willow mostly, if he remembers correctly.

A boy falls into the lake before they have even left the shore. He wails like a babe, a truly pitiful sight. Otherwise their crossing is blissfully uneventful however - if one discounts the way Becrux' necklace burns once, strongly, when they enter the wards of Hogwarts.

They are welcomed by a stern-looking witch with dark hair and piercing eyes that introduces herself as Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, but her looks and the name don't match. She's _pureblood_ he thinks and gets angry that Andy isn't there to help him make sense of that particular puzzle.

He pushes the thought aside when they enter the Great Hall of Hogwarts, every eye immediately falling onto their group. The teachers wear polite smiles next to them, but the rows of students in front of them whisper to each other as they scan this year's batch of first years for interesting characters. Many gazes come to rest on Becrux who hasn't expected anything less.

_Old blood_. This is what it's all about. He is a Black scion, one of the sons of the third oldest pureblood family residing in Britain, the oldest British bloodline still existing.

"Black, Becrux." His name is the first to be called and it fills him with a certain sense of pride.

Professor McGonagall points to a chair and he walks up to it in measured, confident strides, knowing that everyone is watching him and relishing in it. He was born and breed for this stage, to show all the wizards of minor blood what it is they will never have: composure, the regal bearing of one better than their peers and aware of it, one designated for greatness where others will only ever achieve mediocrity.

The Sorting Hat is too big for him, and he grabs it's rim with one hand so it won't fall over his eyes and obscure his vision. It's bad enough to try and see through the strands of his black hair that have fallen in his face - it is daringly long these days, almost reaching his shoulders when he isn't even twelve yet and hasn't earned any right to wear it that long.

_"You value loyalty a great deal, do you, Mr. Black?"_ the hat's hoarse voice whispers in his mind.

_"Of course,"_ he responds in a heartbeat, thinking of Andy first, then of Narcissa and the young Sirius laughing when he whirled him around, of the ghost of a smirk on Arcturus' face.

_"Who is it then, you are loyal to?"_

He thinks of Pollux this time, who came to despise him, of his father and his mother who love him but have never raised their voices in his defense, of his ever-silent grandmother and aunt Walburga screaming at Sirius, of Regulus, quiet and without a single drop of defiance in his bones.

_"To those who are worthy,"_ he answers eventually, spine rigid and a scowl on his face.

His answer is silence, but Bexrus doesn't have it in him to doubt, not in this. He waits patiently and a few seconds later gets the answer he has been waiting for, has expected for as long as he has known of Hogwarts.

"Slytherin."

Under the thunderous applause of his fellow Slytherins he walks over to their table and takes a seat exactly in the middle where space was cleared for him the moment his name was announced.

Kendrick is the next in line, and Becrux barely has time to exchange nods with a few of the older pureblood students - two of the three Burke siblings, a Pucey boy, Fabian Yaxley - before the hat announces him to be a Slytherin as well. Nobody expected anything else, and there is another round of applause from their table.

After him follows a girl who is so obviously muggle-raised that Becrux dismisses her with a single look. He doesn't care for most of his year mates. They are a moderate amount of first years, but with only three purebloods there isn't anyone worth mentioning among the crowd.

A lot of Hufflepuffs this year, equal numbers of Slytherins and Gryffindors, not many Ravenclaws.

Rodolphus wears the Sorting Hat for maybe half a minute before he joins them at the table, taking the seat at Becrux' right. After him come a few half-bloods, all of them unimportant, then a Pyrites girl who is worth more than all of them combined even if her family is only a branch line. Sallow makes a Slytherin too, to his approval. The second to last boy, disgustingly frightened and with the bearings of a mudblood, sits on the chair for ages. He becomes a Slytherin as well, but their table remains silent. No need to give him false hope. Ones like him don't _belong_ into their ranks.

The Pucey boy - Marcus, he learns - is a prefect and takes them to their dorms. It's six girls and eight boys, and while the girls have to share one room amongst them, the boys have two. Becrux motions for Sallow to join theirs, happy enough that he won't have to share is bedroom with the rest of the lot.

Playing the dutiful son he writes first a short letter to his parents and then a longer one to Andy. Them he tells of Kendrick and Rodolphus, that he already started to make acquaintances with the noteworthy among the Slytherins. His sister he tells of the stars reflecting on the lake's surface, of his dorm mates being more agreeable than he thought they'd be, of him and Rodolphus hoping they will have Defense in the morning so they can make fun of the teacher and his ridiculous book.

Unfortunately however their morning begins with a double lesson in Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall is still a mystery to him; she is too young, too competent and too obviously pureblood to waste away teaching imbeciles, but nothing in her demeanor betrays a distaste for her profession.

Rodolphus remarks on it as well, how she _doesn't fit_ into Hogwarts at all. He wants to ask his father about her in his next letter, and Becrux is curious for the eventual answer.

They have their first Defense against the Dark Arts lesson after lunch.

Caius Silver is not what Becrux expected him to be. He is old, with white hair and one eye missing. A Ravenclaw tells them that he is a veteran of the Grindelwald War, and with him teaching at Hogwarts it's obvious which side he fought on.

Still his book is bullocks and all he does is _talk_, boring and useless because it won't teach them anything useful. Instead they learn about imps that afternoon, because Dumbledore obviously wants them cuddled.

Their Charms Professor has goblin blood, but at least seems competent enough, Astronomy is taught by Aurora Sinistra - a witch from an agreeable pureblood line - and their head of house Professor Slughorn teaches Potions. Becrux knows quite a bit about him as the man is old enough to have taught his parents, both very pleased that he is still at Hogwarts.

It's their History of Magic teacher that drives not only Becrux but all his year mates with half a brain into a fit of anger. _A ghost_, Cuthbert Binns is a bloody ghost, because the man died one night, came back to in the morning dead and just continued teaching. He should have been replaced immediately, but Dumbledore seems to have thought it fine and well to let the dead continue to teach the living… _for over twenty years_!

Becrux is livid when he leaves his first history class and his letter to his father is seething. It is a disgrace to allow that shadow of a man around students, he remarks bitterly and is mirrored by Cygnus in his sentiment.

He is a Black, and a ghost for a teacher is beneath him. Their family has power however, if not in Hogwarts then in many parts of the ministry.

Andy helps him pen a letter to Arcturus. Becrux is too clumsy with words still, but his sister has already achieved a mastery of the written word that few can boast of. It takes them weeks though to prepare a text that is both politely outraged and as frank as Becrux wishes it to be - he wants neither Andy, Narcissa nor Sirius to be taught by that floating, transparent memory of a man.

At home everything is mostly the same, Andy tells him. Narcissa takes less pleasure in their lessons than she does, but that was to be expected. One highly educated daughter is enough for Cygnus and Pollux and so Narcissa isn't pressured to perform as well as Andromeda in their studies.

Even with his sister's letters his days would have been mind-numbingly boring if it wasn't for Rodolphus. He talks more than Becrux, but doesn't babble and has a very entertaining sense of humor: they hex Hufflepuffs in the corridors, sabotage Gryffindor's potions and make sure to embarrass the mudblood Slytherin boy whenever possible. Kendrick takes pleasure in that as well and comes up with a nasty jinx to turn his underwear pink permanently.

Christmas arrives faster than he expected.

His father picks him up at the station in Nottingham and they apparate back to the townhouse. Phobos, an old dog by now, barks happily when they come into the foyer and puts his paws on Becrux' shoulders to try licking his face.

What makes him truly feel _home_ however is the smile on Andy's face when she sees him. His hair is tousled and wet from molten snow, and the first thing she does is sit him down to brush it out.

Pollux sniffs at the length of it, and even his mother looks concerned when she watches Andromeda expertly unknot his black mane. Cygnus however doesn't say anything. He watches, yes, and maybe it is only wishful thinking, but Becrux sees _triumph_ in his father's eyes when their gazes cross.

Unlike his grandfather or his uncles or Arcturus, Cygnus never aspired for anything. He understands that now, that this is what makes his life peaceful but also what holds him back. They are Blacks. They have too much pride and ambition to simply stand back and not grab for power when it crosses their path.

Cygnus Black wants his children cared for, maybe even happy, but he doesn't want for _himself_ \- Becrux however wants everything, all the power he needs to do the Black name proud, to take them to their rightful place. He will reach for the stars that name them if he has to.

So his hair stays at it is, even if he's barely twelve years old. He will earn it.

They celebrate his birthday the following day. Twelve isn't a particular important age for wizards and therefore there is no lavish party like last year.

He gets a visitor however, one he didn't expect: his uncle Alphard is back in the country for Christmas this year and comes by to pat his back good-naturedly and hand him a large package that turns out to be a cloak heavy with protection charms.

Becrux loves it. The fabric has a certain dramatic flair to it when he walks and turns wearing the cloak. It's _perfect_, something he can actually use in his day-to-day life without fearing that it will be taken from him by a teacher for being against one of the thousands of school rules.

From Andy he gets a spell-checking quill that also has the added benefit of turning his mess of a writing into presentable script. From anyone else he would have thought the gift condescending, but never from his sister. She thinks better of him than he deserves, doesn't ever doubt that he is great and good and honorable and will make the family _so_ proud one day.

For Andy Becrux would change the world, but Narcissa, his haughty, spoiled baby sister, he comes to care for more than he ever did that Christmas.

She braids his hair. With a patience that rivals Andy's she sits him down and runs a comb through his black strands first. Then she bids him to the quiet, in a tone unlike the high-pitched voice his mother uses when she wants him to behave, but more similar to the one Andromeda uses when she asks him to do something she knows he dislikes. Slowly, methodically, the eight-year-old plaits one small braid after another until she can tie them up at the back of his head and weave them together into one big braid.

"Where did you learn how to do this?" he asks her when he looks at himself in the mirror, marveling at the intricate design of the individual braids.

Narcissa smiles at him coyly. "I looked at that book in the library about the history of the Black Family. There's a picture of the warrior queen... Boudica? Her hair was done like that. It's pretty."

_That_ book is one of the oldest they have, tracing their line back to its very roots over 2000 years ago. Becrux had to memorize all of it, and has forgotten most by now. He remembers Boudica however, the witch from the Iceni clan who tried to take her country back from the Roman conquerors.

His baby sister is braiding his hair in the look of the warrior that shed her own blood to take back what was hers by right. The thought makes him fidget in his seat.

"Do you like her? Boudica?" he has to ask, not yet sure what answer he wants to hear.

"She was very strong and very beautiful," Narcissa answers immediately, her small hands working the last of the braids. "Nobody could tell her what to do. They wronged her and she picked up a sword and fought to take back what was hers. I want to be like her one day… I can, right, Becrux?"

He doesn't know what Andy told their little sister while he was at Hogwarts, he doesn't know who Narcissa thinks he is, what he can do, he doesn't want to _like_ her… but in that moment Becrux sees the _Black_ in her for the first time. The steel, the edge, the willingness to let the world burn for her cause.

Her fingers let go of the last strands of his hair, and Becrux turns around to look at Narcissa who returns his gaze with guileless blue eyes.

"Narcissa, you are a Black," he grasps her hands and holds them between his own. "There is _no one_ like us. You can be whoever you want to be."

She blinks once and then her frown turns into a smile, "Andy said that you'd say that."

It's different between them afterwards. Narcissa isn't Andromeda, she is still his little, perfectly behaved doll of a sister… who wants to grow up to be a warrior queen. He learns to see the other side of her, the side he was always able to see in Andy, the viciousness, the refusal to yield entirely to another's will.

So he spends Christmas under the disapproving look of his grandfather and the hidden, pleased glances from his father, eating his grandmother's cookies talking to Andy while Cissa plays with his hair. It's as peaceful as they can manage, and he will never forget the joy in his mother's eyes when she watches the three of them sitting together by the fireplace till late in the evening.


End file.
